


Telling Tales

by gwenweybourne



Series: Sunburn [4]
Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: 1990s, But I know some people liked it, Celebrity culture, Dolenzsmith, Established Relationship, I hated the ponytail, M/M, Mild cussing, Pre-Justus era, Self-Esteem, The Monkees - Freeform, musician RPF - Freeform, to each their own, youth obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenweybourne/pseuds/gwenweybourne
Summary: Quick one-shot RPF set in 1991. Twice-divorced Micky and Mike are shacked up again. Micky's got The Ponytail and Mike has some opinions.Part of the "Sunburn"-verse, but it works as a standalone.
Relationships: Micky Dolenz/Mike Nesmith
Series: Sunburn [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1421461
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15





	Telling Tales

**Author's Note:**

> This just appeared out of nowhere and I had to write it down. I was thinking of whether or not I'd do a Justus-era continuation of this series, but then wondered "does anyone really want to read smut about 50+-year-old Mike and Micky? Is that something anyone wants?" And then I wondered when The Ponytail happened and ended and I started Googling and saw some early '90s pictures of Micky at some events and here we go. 
> 
> Aging in Hollywood is really hard. I have a lot of sympathy for people trying to navigate the gnarliness of middle age when being worshipped and adulated for their youthful looks is all they've ever known. Some handle it better than others. But all the money in the world can't buy self-confidence.
> 
> As always, this is pure fiction.

_1991_

Mike’s and Micky’s second marriages ended a couple of years apart from each other. Mike’s first, then Micky’s. This time Micky had turned up at Mike’s house, despondent and depressed … yet sporting a vivid, trendy wardrobe … and a little spindly, curly ponytail. He hadn’t had it the last time Mike had seen him, which wasn’t all that long ago, so this was clearly a recent development. Mix of midlife crisis and divorce rebounding, Mike reckoned. Some men bought sports cars, some chased after women half their age. Mike and Micky had both done this and would probably do it again.

And some men tried to cling to some version of the youthful look of their twenties and thirties. Mike had never felt the need to do this because he thought he looked much better now than he had during the height of Monkeemania. He looked at pictures of the sullen, skinny young man he’d once been and just remembered feeling self-conscious and unhappy in his own skin. He’d told himself he didn’t need all the adulation that Davy got. But he’d been painfully aware that he received the least amount of fan mail, and he was very rarely anyone’s “favorite Monkee.” It had pained him to admit that he considered these things, but it was shoved down his throat every day and it had gotten to him somewhat.

And then he’d grown up and filled out and cut off his long hair and grown a beard, and stopped dressing like a cowboy and settled into himself a bit. Now his beard and hair were going salt-and-pepper and he couldn’t be more pleased about it.

He knew he was lucky in this regard. Because it wasn’t usually the case in their industry. In an image-obsessed world, Mike and Micky lived and worked at ground zero for superficial obsession: California. Looks were everything. Careers rose and fell on them. Youth was everything. Getting extensive plastic surgery to fight aging was as common as taking up jogging. Kids got nose jobs for their sixteenth birthdays.

Mike would never forgive Micky if he let a surgeon touch his beautiful, one-of-a-kind face. So he tried to ignore the ponytail. He tried not to stare at it. After all, it was just a superficial affectation and had no bearing on his love for Micky or even his level of physical attraction to his lover. What he felt for Micky Dolenz transcended all of those surface concerns and had done for many years now. But on the other hand, man, that ponytail just looked plain _stupid_.

Micky never let Mike see him with his hair not tied back. If it got messy after they made love, Micky would immediately go to the bathroom to fix it before returning for a post-coital cuddle. If they showered together, Micky kept it tied back and would only shampoo his hair when he was alone in the shower.

Micky maintained his own residence, but he brought a few more things over to Mike’s and, like last time, they lapsed into an unspoken agreement that they were living together for the foreseeable future. Once again, the tide flowed and had swept them back together again.

Micky had invested in a cellular telephone so he could be reached by his family and business partners wherever he happened to be. No one had to know where he was shacked up for the time being. When it was his turn to have the girls, he’d go back to his own house to be Dad.

It was working out pretty well.

But Micky’s insecure vanity began to unexpectedly wear on Mike. And after a few weeks, Mike couldn’t hold back anymore. “Micky, baby …” he said, reaching out and flicking the little ponytail at the nape of his lover’s neck. “I’ve been meaning to ask … what the hell is this?”

Micky flinched and Mike felt an immediate stab of guilty regret. He’d known for a long time that Micky was very self-conscious about his thinning hair — about aging in general, but it really was driving Mike a little crazy. Micky was still so handsome and nicely built for his age — if he would only accept his age and stop trying — and failing — to look like a twenty-five-year-old when he was pushing fifty. The ponytail … the too-tight clothes. Walking the red carpet to get photographed at youth-oriented industry events where he stuck out like a sore thumb among the callow, disaffected young nineties celebrities.

“You don’t like it.” The words were steeped in hurt.

Mike pressed his lips together. “I don’t love it. I don’t know why you think you need it.”

“I … I like it … I think it looks good … it’s trendy, y’know? It’s very nineties.”

Mike fixed a patient look at his friend and lover of twenty-five years. “Mick …”

Micky scowled. “Look … didn’t I say I wouldn’t get plugs or wear a rug? I promised you that five years ago. God knows why … it’s not _your_ fucking hair.”

“That’s true. And it is your hair. I’d still love you if you broke your promise, y’know.”

“But you’d find me less attractive.”

“Micky, only because I’d know it was fake. You’re so much better than that. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You’re gorgeous just the way you are.”

“Well, you’re the only one who sees me that way. The rest of the world … the rest of the industry, anyway, just sees me getting old and bald. And, well … this is the solution for now, okay? The ponytail … covers the bald spot and keeps everything in place. I can control it. I’m not always so worried about wind or heavy lighting or whatever.”

Mike took a moment to process that, then reached out and gently touched Micky’s face, trying to erase the unhappy frown lines around his tense mouth. “Okay, Micky. I’m sorry. I get it. I didn’t mean to make you feel weird about it. You know me and my big mouth. Don’t always think before I talk.”

“You _really_ hate it that much?” Micky looked at him imploringly and Mike felt a surge of protective love. After all these years, Micky still needed so much approval from the people around him. From the entertainment world. … from Mike himself. He’d spent his childhood pleasing adults and his young adulthood ensuring that everyone liked him and no one had a beef with him. Micky the pleaser, Micky the glue, Micky the happy clown. That’s where all this came from … his increasingly desperate attempts at appearing like the adored, youthful, cute pop star he’d been a quarter-century ago. With his head of wild, thick, curly hair; impish face; and the tight little body that never gained weight even if he tried.

It wouldn’t be enough for Mike to just acknowledge that Micky liked his ridiculous hairstyle. He’d have to fib a little bit. And he’d do it out of overwhelming love for the man.

He smiled softly and touched Micky’s ponytail again, but tenderly this time. “Well … I guess it is kinda cute.”

“You think so?” Micky smiled a little, hopeful. “I can pull it off, right?”

Mike nodded and smiled. “With that face … you can pull off anything.”

Micky smiled, seeming to relax a little and allowed Mike to pull him in for a kiss.

“You’d tell me if I looked stupid, right?”

Mike nodded, and smiled a little sadly. “Sure, Mick. Sure, I would.”


End file.
